murmurs in between pauses

See Alice Fall

2012-02-10T02:03:00.001-08:00

Watch her fall

her fingerprints sliding off the stone walls

her gaze brushing past the backs

that have turned

watching birds as their feet lift off the ground

past the cupcakes and poison ivy

and the dissapearing daffodils

She's falling falling worlds are turning,changing

color is company draining down with her

as memories rush up the walls kissing the soles of her feet

before dying in the sunlight

Now she's talking, laughing, spinning

upside down, swimming around

making angels in the air somersaults

and all the things she could never do

with feet firmly on the ground

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murmurings of a meghana

2011-07-08T22:16:00.000-07:00

on taking a break
After 3 odd years of being crazy busy, i finally took a break, sabbatical, whatever. But i don't have any exciting travel plans yet. Apparently that makes me some kind of loser. Even inside my own head. We (i mean me and people like me, you know who you are) are all so fixated on squeezing the very last drop of juice out of life that even choosing to do nothing on a holiday that we've earned is labelled as a waste of time. So I've started reading Bertrand Russel's 'in praise of idleness' essay hoping to find well, some kind of validation for the choice to do nothing. Let's see where that goes.

on the word 'poetry'
So i write poetry of some kind occasionally. but every time i say that word, i cringe. It feels kind of pretentious to say 'i write poetry' when all i really want to say is some simpler, less-loaded word for 'short bursts of careless, grammatically incorrect, garbled streams of thought'. because that's all that it is really. And its enough.

On the 'what-if' question

When someone starts a sentence with what if?, i know its going to be good. because what if always precedes an idea. And ideas make everything more interesting. You start talking, it becomes a conversation and then a possibility and maybe even a plan. Just like that. All because someone said what if. I'd recommend asking the what if question at least twice a day without thinking too much about it. Because you never know what's going to happen.

back soon, gym now :)

3 pure veins & a razor sharp tongue

2011-04-20T22:19:00.001-07:00

the beast plunges deep

and rises like a black phoenix

from the ashes made by your light

that sliced through my shadows

blood is black lava

roaring through my gut

burning everything in its wake

my heart & my will

it spills on white sun

tearing its pure skin

setting me free

settling me still

here i will be

in a place of no eyes

to see my charred skin

& no ears to hear

the defeat within

when 3 pure veins

meet a razor sharp tongue

everything will come undone

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1:51

2011-03-18T13:23:00.001-07:00

this curve, this drop

this curse, this kiss

this gentle lift

this deadly beat

like sand & stone melting heady

move or swim

slow and stop

jerk to pause

snap hard

break down

drown

everything you can ever feel

like blood rushing to your head

swarming around you

engulfing every skin

drawing you inside

deep within

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infinite - written in 2005

2011-03-12T22:21:00.001-08:00

in this world of shadows and words
i see the light and language
in this empty palm of my hand i see you resting your chin gently
amongst the bourbon coloured skin and cheery red eyes
there is a thread of you and i

something indefinite ,something infinite seems to rest
something real runs with me and lives in me
this moment lives like an era , never shaking never breaking
this faith grows like a gentle beast

arms run around each other three times and then stop
i wait patiently on neck and shoulder
wait for his drooping eyes of sorrow and mist
to look down at me and whisper something desperate
and when it comes.. the inifinte stretches further beyond... the

horizon falls away

revealing a feather floating in the wind.

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Re:

2011-02-22T22:02:00.001-08:00

http://drselda.com/cool01.11.php?ID=957

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semi life

2011-01-21T18:46:00.001-08:00

sometimes cracks appear on my semi life

ants crawling in get under my skin

refusing to die

a colony grows there

feeding on my fear

calling on the rain

sometimes there's a sun so bright

it blinds out every dark morsel

and the ocean curls lovingly under my feet

every speck shows off its beauty

colors bursting only for my absolute delight

Today i'm on the precipice

of dark and light

wondering where i will free fall

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pick out your cloud

2010-11-19T09:32:00.001-08:00

digging deep inside a forest

a sea of black blue green and yellow

every color

of our skin

reflects in the moonlight

beneath the dense

over by the lake the pebbles shiver

in the cold

as the ripples swoon

in perfect harmony

to the sound of a wailing storm

of minds cut in words

of love sliced penniless

of paths colored in ink

uniting nothing, dividing our time

into lightplays & rain

this is me

and me is you

and you is me

and the storm is ours

to hold and to have

till death do us part

pick out your cloud.

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swan dive

2010-11-19T09:24:00.001-08:00

toes touch the metal cold and warm

finger tips hold on tight

eyes closed

abnormal

beautiful

swan dive

into the blue

stirring the cold

waking up the leaves

slumber lust left behind

for the love of eyes of wide open

everything she sees

grey and true

all i can hear is you

in the ferocity of the wind

cut loose

falling free

with me

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are you

2010-10-23T06:43:00.001-07:00

are you old

old enough

to know the difference between

a strawberry and a tart

Are you bold

bold enough

to know when to stand up and

when to give in

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this is how this feels

2010-10-21T10:59:00.001-07:00

with no more

no more pain or tears

here we go

on a a wheel round

and round

every spin, every circle we make

takes us someplace new

buckleup

cause this will be unforgettable

the climb we rise

the peaks we soar

the lifts and the falls

it flows

so smooth

watching us from below

the whole world

smiling and crying

everyone wants to be us.

we are so new

so crisp so fresh

nothings gonna touch us

we kiss like pink

we touch like brown melting into an orange orange sun

we are inventing everything again

and wind wont move

and rain wont fall

and touch wont feel

and lips won't speak

till the sunshine touches water

and our colors remake the air

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there will be blood

2010-07-31T11:51:00.001-07:00

there will be blood

on the hands of those

who deny justice

who fall prey to vile manipulations

& selfish desires

There will be blood

on the hands of those

who take away years & years

of hope & hard work

with a single wicked tear

There will be blood

on that hands of those

who blind with morality

who shatter a ray of light

with a double edged sword

there will be blood

you have been warned

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where is the beauty?

2010-07-10T00:07:00.001-07:00

lifelong dreams

tantalizingly close & slipping away fast

sinking deep into the clutter

of the things we don't need

of the people that don't matter

of illusions of ourselves

of a million pointing fingers

& role models & doppelgangers

the words are trapped

by eyes waiting & watching

by tentacles of argument

by conflicts of relevance & beauty

by too many choices

by too many to please

No matter how much blood

no matter how many screams

no matter how dark & rich

the scene becomes

its always the same

lies wrapped in red lipstick

nothingness covered in satin sheets

& real beauty hidden in a cloak of shame

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poison oil

2010-06-26T09:49:00.001-07:00

poison oil

slipped under my skin

when noone was looking

slithered into my blood

found the heat growing in my heart

& exploded

now everything inside

is all blown up

shards and shards of inside-me

that pierce right through

scattered in places i can't find

all because

of that poison oil

that seeped in

when noone was looking

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Mumbai rickshaw city

2010-03-08T20:52:00.001-08:00

Love this one. happened entirely by chance. my fav in the series

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Posterous | Black & White motorbike

2010-03-08T20:46:00.001-08:00

zooming past the rickshaw

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Posterous | Blurry signboard

2010-03-08T20:44:00.001-08:00

Single signboard somewhere in the picture. Cue to take a left for home

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rickshaw & road

2010-03-08T20:43:00.001-08:00

Taken from the blackberry 8900.
First in a series of blurry sepia & black & white images on the road from work to home

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spectator of the spectacle of release

2010-03-05T23:12:00.001-08:00

my nose pressed to the window

i watch as bits & bytes

travel through the wireless

& seep into my brain

i stare

as they contort my thoughts

into newer shapes

& dance wild

living, loose, free

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Posterous | Loaded

2010-03-05T22:40:00.001-08:00

Loaded

On intoxicating love

On lightning seeds in my veins

On little boys.. precocious

On hurtful memories ..and poignant insults

On silly dreams.. and hopeful happiness

On a cotton trail ..leading to a chocolate house

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a tribute to radiohead

2010-01-16T22:43:00.000-08:00

a white page & emptiness
stare at me patiently
waiting waiting
for the void
to be replaced
with something real
it glitters
within reach
Tantalisingly close
i lean in
the game begins
we shift & move
and dance
to each others shadows
illusions both
nerves stiffen
breath stops
a unworldly melody
floats in
we soar
on a voice from elsewhere
we meet in parts & pieces
letters begin & words breathe
tonight we sail to the moon

the uncool 30's

2009-08-30T20:22:00.001-07:00

ive turned over a new leaf. ive quit drinking and smoking. smoking cause it was time and drinking cause i just got bored & it was easier coz i was never a big drinker anyway. all this is good im sure. however i still like to go out to clubs and such. but now i never know what to do there

and now other people's sordid drinkin stories are not amusing anymore. i am hugely bored of hearing "hey the other day i got sooo drunk and then... " thats the point where i shut off. No, i don think its interesting that u got drunk and climbed up a tree or went to bed with someone you didnt know or puked yr guts out in a gutter.

i know at least 5 in-their-20's kids who do this every weekend. brag about more beer. tweet about tequila shots gone wrong. and wear t-shirts that proudly affirm their 'i like to drink' hobby.

i think i'm kinda jealous that i don have any crutches anymore - any reasons to do soemthing stupid like alcohol or cigarettes to feel cool and young and hip. i stand around at clubs full of glamorous looking people while sipping red bull and thinking oh shit i better not have too much of this cause i wont get sleep and i got an early morning. sad. i know.

blame it on the fact that im turning 30 in another 19 days. SUCKS.
dammit. im not cool anymore. :(

Look what you did

2009-07-15T09:20:00.000-07:00

You put light in me
And i drink it in every morning
Cut open my veins
Pour a glass
Drop an icy teardrop
Shake it up
Smile & sip

You put ink in my fingers
And i write with them every morning
Run them on empty walls & beds
Linger a bit to make new dots
Full stop. And start again
Joining pieces of me left on pillows
With the ink you put in my fingers

You put the breeze in my step
Now i fly over snow peaks in my sleep
& float on wet concrete with wide eyed wonder
Skimming the cool below my heels
Then the wet wind crawls under my skin
& life begins in my heart again

music & me - final part 2

2009-03-26T21:33:00.000-07:00

ok due to popular demand by the few nice people who read my blog im back for the final installment of music & me.
The pop phase went on till i think i was 14 /15. Yeah it didnt last too long due to the aforementioned 'search for depth'. Thats when MTV happened. Not the lame ass nonsense that is MTV now, but i like to think of my childhood MTV as a real education.

Course 1: How to rebel without a cause and look really cool while doing it - taught by kurt cobain, Chris cornell & eddie vedder

Course 2: Lateral thinking: the coolest ever channel Id graphics. MTV taught me the basics of how to say one thing in the most number of superbly cool ways

Course 3: how to hallucinate and elevate without being drugged - the one and only TORI AMOS , lifelong friend and secret lover

and so continuing on..

Phase 4: teeteering 'over the edge'

My earliest memory of watching MTV was afternoons once i got back from school and noone was home. Sneakily watching MTV when i was supposed to be doing homework or something and one day catching a video set in a grungy basement filled with teenage kids head banging in slow motion to one man's pain stricken voice. I remember very clearly being struck by the orange yellow dusty feel of the video and the 'anti' cheerleaders in black dresses. it smelled like teen spirit and it was heady. then on began the grunge obsession, accompanied by spells of bad poetry scribbled behind red line notebooks apparently an expression of my 'angst'

i still have those notebooks.

Phase 5: my first brush with hallucinations

in the middle of all those brown & grey boys with voices that sounded like paper tearing, a girl with flaming red hair wearing a red tulle dress stepping in and out of windows making love to a mystical piano entered my life. she's still in it , she's still making my hair stand up and showing me 'peices of things ive never seen'
tori amos , sometimes absurd, mostly kind of pretentious when she isnt singing, but always intense and cripplingly beautiful when she is, walked in and took me over. suddenly it seemed like some secret world existed with a secret language and now i was permanent resident of a dark fairytale wonderland.

suddenly am reminded of raggity and the cloud. i miss that book :(

Phase 6: 'adult alternative & mehfil -e -electronica

ok all grown up by now, the grunge/alternative/tori phase defining most of my teens and early 20's i landed up at my first 'advertising job'. discovered a lost cousin from my mom's side - mihir living in boston. thanks to the web we started chatting and realised we were like music twins or something. the newest, coolest music came to me direct from amrica courtesy mihir , here i was with silly smile on my face zoning out on death cab for cutie, phish and the like. Till of course, i heard psychedelic trance. extremely sceptical but pushed by the urge to at least try it, i did. it started with 'this is great work music' (the earlier commercial shit) to 'hmm there seems to be something here' (morning) to 'this is incredibly visual and strangely moving' (parasense).

Am somewhere still there now except with the brilliant addition of IDM (intelligent dance music) and trip hop fellows like rum pistol , prefuse courtesy the BASAK - art partner and grphic artist. between our secret language (which noone else at work seems to understand) are the scratchy, twisted sounds of IDM making the work seem sort of more than what it is. here's to that and to music. for making my world spin.
:)

music & me - Part 1

2009-02-13T20:22:00.000-08:00

i'm a 90's child. but unlike most 90's suburban mumbai kids, i almost never heard any hindi/bollywood music as a child. thanks to musically evolved cousins who stayed across the road, i grew up on a healthy diet of pop, rock, grunge and when MTV hit it was 'alternative' courtesy 'alternative nation' a show with jerky camera movements and a dark almost dingy set, hosted by VJ sophia who brought her very special brand of cool to the entire experience. (or was it danny? , there were two of them alternative nation and over the edge)

phase 1: Sunday Mornings with the Fab four.

This was me at maybe 5? or 6? something like that. My folks had this record player and every sunday morning the Beatles LPs' would rock our house. those days we were in no hurry to switch on tubelights so the perfect sunday morning was spent with the fab four singing 'hard day's night' and all four of us dancing and goofing around in the little bits of sunshine. ( i think thats where i got my fascination for sunrise trance from)

phase 2: Bowing down to 80's royalty

mid 80's. it started with watching madonna's like a virgin video and feeling creeped out, excited, and longing all at once. my first crush i think she was. i was too young to understand the references but i knew it was soemthing dangerously cool. Cut to me watching her performances on pirated VHS tapes goggle eyed , cut to lame mimicking of jackson's thriller moves cut to humming prince's purple rain cut to speech bubble inside my brain going 'this guy looks kinda weird, but damn this music is strangely beautiful'

apparently also somewhere in the middle of all of this was an arrogant 10 year old girl who thought peter gabriel was god and snootily snubbed everyone who didnt know who the hell he was. (god knows when this happened, but one of the snubbed friends confirms this)

Phase 3: Going Radio Ga Ga

Now to say i am a bit embarassed by this part of the music history is an understatement. Radio came into my life at this point. and so did pop music. not the madonna kind. more like the ace of base/amy grant one hit wonders kind.

so here i was in my early teens, when i decided radio and pop music was fun. No more 'borrowed tastes' i'm going to discover my own music without having to go across the road. so i started stealing No 1's from the weekly top 10's off the radio and by the end of it i had a drawer full of - you guessed it - mixed tapes. of course then i took it all too seriously and promptly rejected the entire movement because
'the lyrics dont mean anything' and 'my life is more complicated than silly love songs'. Of course what was complicating my life at 13 , ill never know.

coming up: phase 4: in search of the 'alternative', phase 5: trip hop & indie
phase 6: electronica takes over.
and then the forever top 10

small town indian lady seeking rhinoplasty

2008-10-30T09:35:00.000-07:00

so i happened to meet this small town lady. she was a neighbour at a friends place where i was bunking in between work stuff. one day in the afternoon when i happen to be home, she walks in hesistantly asking me if i could answer a few questions for her. so i said ok. so she says do you know any thing about plastic surgery in Bombay??

! - no other symbol could explain my reaction better. here was this seemingl simple rajasthani lady come from small town india, who stays at home all day with two little girls and has no friends to speak of - here was this sterotype doing something completely unstreotypical. she was asking me about 'rhinoplasty' and saying she read on the net that nowadays girls in delhi and in bombay are doing this a lot. i have to say i was impressed.

till of course she told me her reasons.

Her neice apparently has a 'bad' nose and isnt getting any proposals despite being qualified working independant etc.. so of course, why not just fix the problem. anything to get her married , money etc no problem. and why not ask the 'bombay girl' for advice? its amazing hwo she compltely missed the irony of it all.

Anyways it was awkward for me. on one hand i kept thinking i should be discouraging her from thinking about surgery and on the other i figured she had a right to know if she wanted to. education never hurt anyone. so i decided that its best to give her all the info so at least she knows the risk.

and then the situation turned a bit. uncomfortably so. she asked me tentaively in slightly hushed tones about breast surgery. now she kept sayins its for some other neice but err one could easily see how the information could be used for her own benefit. well by this time i was kind of expecting this so i just helped her out.. even sent her some links ( yeah she has an email id, she surfs google for info , chats on yahoo with her sisters and soon im sure she willhave a twitter account)
apparently her husband likes women who are well endowed. sighh..

cant help feeling a bit queasy though about the whole thing.

100 years of

2008-10-14T20:52:00.000-07:00

one hundred years of darkness later
the sunlight dances on my toes

one hundred years of despair later
i am moving slightly to morning music

one hundred years of scrutiny
& i discover everything is going to be ok

one hundred years of battles later
i am finally home

new blog!

2008-10-10T19:49:00.000-07:00

ok i started a new blog

its called http://bornurban.blogspot.com
its about being born and raised in and by the city

please check and let me know what you all think. i got nice
header art also from deviant and a world clock across five cities!
i am very pleased with that one :)

also would like to invite anyone who reads this to
share their own on the blog. if youve got something to write about your city please get in touch and ill put it up with credits.

all these people

2008-09-24T05:24:00.000-07:00

all these people.
who shrunk me with their
holier than thou

who kicked me harder when
i was down who broke me choked me
raped me , turned me out
into the cold

all these people.
i watch them from a distance
their miserable tiny lives
growing smaller by the second
caught in time's stranglehold

tighter & tighter
sharper & sharper
cut bleed gasp burn
veins peircing through the flesh
screams for anyone someone...

but im not there.
im not there anymore. no more

my newest find

2008-09-18T00:35:00.000-07:00

pile on.. it a free for all here

2008-09-14T07:24:00.000-07:00

i am home again in borivali after weeks. the new house is lovely and living with unnati is real nice :) there's a lot of lounging around in the front room, talking and playing something or doing nothing just sprawling on sofas .. very relaxing. my dark circles have reduced :)

but i am home in borivali today .. greeted by hyper the dog. which was superb having a dog in the house again! went a little crazy playing with him and then was getting ready for television ( since i dont have one in the andheri house, sundays at home are Tv days ) ..

but of course all this niceness was interrupted by uninvited guests. a regular feature in my house since i was a kid. if it was sunday it meant someone is going to show up. so the cupboards are promptly stocked with snacks. and the house is cleaned up in anticipation and im sulking as usual cause i have some sort of univited guest phobia , especially uninvited guests who im supposed to recongise but never do and realy dont care about AT ALL. pretending to be all nice and interested just bores the hell out of me.

well anyways, these people are still here., and its been about 1.5 hours. i usually shut myself out and everyone thinks im a real snob probably cause i am. but this time these fellows started talking about how 'the christians in your area are really quite unbearable' in that typical snooty stupid 'very marathi' air of superiority. women and men like that i really hate. its an intense sort of hatred. people who pretend to be superior when they have absolutely nothing to show for it. god knows how my folks can even stand to talk to them or reason with them.

besides i don undersatnd this coming over uninvited funda. is this a generation thing? i never ever go anywhere without calling first. why do people think its 'okay' to drop in on people on a bloody sunday evening? the day for tv and conversation and reading of TIME magazine and sunday papers RUINED. that too by self righteous bigots. superb i say. simply superb.

B.L.O.T

2008-07-21T23:08:00.000-07:00

basic love of things. See them here www.blot.in and here www.blottin.blogspot.com

Discovered them through a friend who recommended the music. Found Blot on facebook and now i have a brand new DVD sent to me by them.  which by the way is supercool. I highly recommend. Not that anyone reads my blog.

Also have a fantastic poster which will sit happily above my work station in new chutney office.

All this connecting with the world through the web makes me very happy.

Thank you internet for my life.

Thank you Avinash for the DVD. Music and the movies are great. I loved discovering the cities like that. Come to Bombay and perform sometime soon.

Back to life

2008-06-21T05:31:00.000-07:00

once again .. the voices come calling
and i think what a time it was, what a life it was. how ive changed . from that to now.

i am lack
of imagination
of joy
of secret ideas
of resolve

how do i go back into that secret place,below the bridge in the muddy water
here i was free lurking in the corners watching them go about thier business
and me making copious notes of eyes darting this way and that and feet slipping , hands outstretched reaching out to the moon

dancing girl
singing girl
hidden in the shadows of my
dreams
how do i talk to her now
how do i awaken those eyes
that went to sleep
and forgot about me

when did i decide to come out and be them and mingle instead of staying indoors, watching the babies playing in the snow. teach me how to build dreams on this song
to be surprised by the words i find hiddin in their breath under the smog inside drains over puddles, between towers & bridges and bliss

the unspeaking trees of far away call my name
brown wet dirt lies in wait to gather below naked feet

book buying adventure & the call of kari

2008-05-01T02:48:00.000-07:00

so i went to landmark to kill some time and the mission of the day became instantly clear as i saw the gothamesque book city rise up in front of me (somehow everytime i walk past the glossy foreign magazines and step into BOOKS, i feel like im plunging head first into the brightly lit but still overwhelming unknown - ( i love to adventurize everything)

so the mission was - find books i had read & loved but lost somehwere inside my head and discover at least one new writer.

today was my lucky day. after a slow leisurely walk down "literary fiction" i found old lovers - bluest eye and brave new world and newest crush "everything is illuminated" by jonathan safram foer with elijah wood showing off the sky in his spectacles on the cover. New York times called it a wild indelible first novel. so of course i put it in my little red riding hood red plastic basket and happily strolled along to the graphic novel section..

this is something i always do. its like a ritual at landmark. the graphic novels have to be seen, touched, fantasized about and then given up on after you see the exorbitant prices. Batman & robin in monochrome for 1000 bucks. some new japanese graphic novel for 900 bucks..

sigh.. but then. i saw kari. sitting between batman & some other much too expensive comic book , somewhere on the side... where nooone would notice her.
i like to think she found me.

there was of course just one copy. very romantic :)

Kari is a graphic novel by artist + writer Amruta Patil. inside the book on the first page left is a synopsis. i cant explain it any better than that so i am just going to reproduce a part of it here..

With Angel, Lazarus and the girls of crystal palace forming the chorus to her song, Kari explores the dark heart of smog city - loneliness, sewers, sleeper success, death and the memory of her absentee Other.

I took to kari instantly. I dont know how to write reviews and i dont intend to. Its a personal thing. or more truthfully a selfish thing. im not sharing the inexplicable connections and discoveries i made with anyone. i love it, is all im going to say.

incidently the book ( probably cause its a graphic novel ) smells ever so slightly of paint. Intoxicating me as much as the writing & the art itself.

read more about amruta patil - the writer here http://amrutapatil.blogspot.com

home

2008-04-05T21:42:00.001-07:00

im back from home and im headed home.
just got back from a 4 day holiday in goa courtesy my company who generously took us all for a much needed end of year break. for everyone else it was vacation time
for me it was like going back home. Goa is special.

But a lot of things are different now. the 10 pm deadline for instance. of course anywhere else in india its super strict but goa alwyas had its own set of rules for things liek that. ever since scarlet happened though, its all gone. The freedom is finished. terribly sad. killing off the free spirit of goa isnt going to solve the scarlet and related issues. any idiot can see that.

But even without the 10 pm deadline, goa tourism isnt doing much to improve the overall goa experience. for example , its almsot impossible to find a doctor in the night except maybe at panjim. anjuna has only ONE 15 bed hospital mostly filled with drug OD cases. Directions & street lighting is abysmally poor. ive gotten lost on those crazy roads many times and at night believe me its bloody scary. Although bikes are cheap and great , to travel long distances with luggage means hiring a taxi, which turns out terribly expensive. a taxi to the airport from morjim ( north of anjuna) cost us about 1000 bucks. pretty ridiculous and no amount of bargaining works.

plus the locals are real pain. try going to a rave. the koli ladies selling chai and spreading mattresses all over the only sitting space may seem 'exotic and charming' to the foriegners but they are con artists, rude, mean and really painful to deal with. plus the chai SUCKS. you end up buying the crap they sell just cause you want to shut the hell up and let you rest your tired legs.

wow. this has become a rants post. i actually love goa. i end up tolerating all the above mentioned nonsense only because the beaches are incredible and the feeling of freedom is unmatched anywhere in india. exploring goa on a bike is the next best thing to lazing on a sun bed all day. in my explorations with friends ive managed to uncover some amazing places and things to do.

here's 5 of the best

1. Morning at a rave
there's nothing in the world like sunrise at a good party. thats all i can say about that :)

2. English breakfast at Munches - Anjuna, star co junction
Fantastic juices , great frankurters
its open 24 hours too.

3. Lazing on Morjim/ Ashwem beach - north of anjuna , after siolim
these are some of the most fantastic north goa beaches. untouched , clean
laidback and lovely. whooever goes there, if i find out that uve taken a boombox
blaring bollywood music and ordered for paneer tikka at the shack, im coming after you with a loaded rifle. apparently you can hire a boat here, go fishing and also watch the dolphins and the sea turtles - if you can wake up early morning that is.

4. Biking it
There's nothing as fun as hopping on one of those deo's and riding away whrever
the hell you feel like. provided its in the day of course. dont try this at night unless you dont mind getting lost or you knwo the ways pretty well. the roads are designed for these bikes and its super super fun. try going all the way to south goa and lunching at martin's

5. Nine Bar from 6pm or Loodas
nine bar for electronic music in just the right setting
- a cliff overlooking the beach, try this on a saturday or friday - the DJ might be better than the one i had to endure.. but it dosent matter cause the place itself is brilliant.

or Loodes/ Loodas for pyschedelic live rock - a band that played original music for
hours non stop

this super long post is done. for photos visit my flickr account http://www.flickr.com/photos/trippyhippy07/

will keep adding more there

peer pressure

2008-03-01T06:40:00.001-08:00

its a saturday evening. i havent been feeling too well ( i hope my mother dosent read this ) . but there's nothign to do except write this post.

things are changing. a friend has left town. another has left work. yet another writes about me ( http://plasticgunner.blogspot.com ) . one is 25 today and another got married last week.

its liek the world is turning another color. or there's some imperciptible shift in the order of things that i can only sense but cant put my finger on. it scares me a bit. i am wondering what abotu me? am i supposed to change too? in some way?

hwoever old you grow i guess you always wanna fit in soemhwere. if everynone 's life is changing mine should too. no matter how great it is right now.

or is it?

i wrote a half of a story

2008-01-10T09:37:00.000-08:00

so i wrote half of of a short story. its not complete yet. but its my first real attempt i think. i always have a tough time finding an ending for the story so i leave them like that and never finish them. i hope this one will be different.

i hope this one will be a first.

i got one bad review though from the one person i showed it to. that made me a bit unsure. but then i decided its not for the world its for me , in typical rejected writer arrogance. hehe

i think this is one of those ' here world, this is how dull my life is ' post .bbut i promise you on the 34th line your world will change. everything will ve revelaed. the truth is out there. stay tuned yahoo and all that jazz.

the truth is i am incredibly bored. people who know me have heard this much too often. i thought about it pretty hard one day. all the synapses in my brain were buzzing around like bees on ecstasy. and then i discovered. I am the kind of person that needs to wake up and have an adventure every single day, mental , physical , emotional any flavour will do. When i dont i get depressed, annoyed , angry , irritable etc etc.

so now you know. it came out lot sooner than the 34th line, but hey thats a good thing. i felt i had to write down my big discovery so i dont lose it inside my head.

so now you know.

many days later..

2008-01-01T06:34:00.000-08:00

here i am. many days later. in the new year.

i had a new year party last night. a sort of spontaneous ,unplanned house party.
lots of indulgences into the night i started the usual 'propounding of nonsense theories' usually associated with consumption of large doses of things your mother warned you to stay away from.

here's the latest 'nonsense theory'
yknow Y2k? well the whole world thought systems would breakdown
but in actual fact, unknowingly people broke down. and THAT'S how "motherfuckers gonna drop the pressure" became a hit song.

yeah yeah i know. moral of the story: if you cant be the life of a party try not to be the fool. i narrated this very dramatically to an audience hoping for me to do soemthing really stupid and end up becoming one of those great 'new year party silliness stories' ..but the joke fell kinda flat ..hmm i wonder why..

anyway it was nice. friends , laughter, actually LOTS of laughter at nothing at all and a warm cosy sleep afterward. ive slept all day today. indulging in the one thing i usually get very little of. i love sleeping int he afternoons. its a family tradition. all holidays we eat a great full meal and promptly make the right arrangements for a very long very relaxing siesta. my aunts, parents, cousins , me all stand guilty as charged. and how we love it.

oh and by the by, i went to bangkok in december. work + holiday. work days i hardlky saw the city but after that i did a lot of roaming around. a friend with the common love of walking aroudn cities went with me to chinatown and the shopping mall (yes, malls are the new parks, its the only place to walk anyway )

chinatown was mad. i have pictures of unidentified eating objects hanging from street stalls looking strange but delicious, and of a bizarre HUGE school bus with the most fantastic japanese illustrations..!! ok im just gonna put up the pics now

weird food.

more weird food!

bangkog city. reminded me of bombay all the time

patayya walking street!!!! the sex street with all the mad shows . totally overhwelming monstrosity of neon , ladyboys, weird animals and live huge seafood

the awesomely cool japanese school buses

everyone who reads have a great happy happy new year!!!
ciao now dahlings!

little lotta & pokemon

2007-09-18T00:18:00.000-07:00

once upon a diddly doo Little lotta met Pokemon
and together they were happy & free

but little lotta carried her weight wherever she went
at first it was kind of cute & Pokee felt the belly was
like a really fat flute

but then too much became three much
& one fine day she went boom
blew up to the size of two balloons

then lotta began to feel an itch
inside her heart and it made her soul twitch

She couldnt quite figure out what it was
and lots of soul searching left her with naught
She found herself stuck in limboland
wishing alice would take her to wonderland

Pokee couldnt quite figure out what it was
he talked and yelled and worried a lot
but Lotta was stubborn as an ox
her mind wouldnt give no matter what

then one day, poke told lots..
"you better get happy or im gonna get lost!"
lotta felt a shiver of fear
creeping down her back like an electric razor

So she tried and tried..
distractions and addictions
super glue and quick stick
but her broken part would just not mend , dammit!!

So what next she wonders
maybe its time to deflate the balloon
if i get thin again, will it be ok then?
Maybe hidden inside the layers of fat
is the monster thats making her sad

So thums down to colas
& no more crisps or fun golas
just pass by the chocoalte candy
and give a miss to the beef burgundy

wake up at 5 and walk instead of drive
run on the sands of time
and hope everything will be allright

f@%* the world

2007-08-21T21:30:00.001-07:00

fuck the world

i feel
like a rebellious
16 year old boy
with a guitar crashing in my head
and the devil on my mind

i want
to smash a window
and break a few bones
and climb a tree
and just be free

i wish
i had a natural brilliance
maybe i could paint
or draw
or write
or play a sport
or make movies

fed up
of being me
and ranting and raving
and crying into my pillow
and drowning in self pity

somebody save me

the pursuit of "wow"

2007-08-21T21:03:00.000-07:00

i hold me back
everytime, raise me this high
and no more

blame it on circumstance
or the wrong choices
or karma?

is it a hole that i cant plug?
im afraid
what if its never enough

im tired now
searching for too long
its either this or that
all or nothing

ready to run away
ready for the big bang
anywhere, somehwere
anywhere but here

chronicles - 4

2007-07-26T23:11:00.000-07:00

Chronicles of a dickhead – part 4
- how samosa killer aka bad ass mofo aka as yet untitled met the king of good minds – Idea the bulb …..

(note : all wrongs reserved, any multiplication of this monstrosity will invite sever punishment in the form of listening to the opera for 3 hours, or the hit indi puke song “eh papi” ( for the unitiatied – papi means sinner and not some hybrid or feminine version of the Punjabi _ pape, although with words like kudi and chak de its an easy mistake to make ) whichever is worse at a given time

in one of his oil filled fantasies ( to note at this time – these chronicles gave been passed by the board of smoky soirees and sordid stories and has been given a pg rating) the great and giving Sk found his answer to all problems his talcum powder to cover his sweaty odors, his foot cream to get rid of the samosa sores rising rapidly on the inner sole of his left toe , his tongue cleaner of those oily love stains from his beloved samosas… oh you get the picture !

he found the insult giver , the bad boy of brainy behavior – idea the bulb!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(the board of unnecessary and completely nonsensical crap has authorized more than three exclamation marks behind his name and hence the same has been applied )

Idea the bulb had helped him before. Once warming his stomach when in a somewhat odd manner sub zero temperatures hit Hawaii when SK was taking is annual solar skin purifying hydration oxymoronic treatment. The warmth from idea the bulb kept the samosa flavor alive and SK found his will to live and eat again…

Why oh why had he nto thought if hime before? Especially before stuffing his face 3000 samosas in the desperate hope to reach level 6! Purrrrr.. a pussycat meowed from his rear...

So idea the bulb dimmed and cracked a few times especially when bad ass mofo appeared , the stench did cause some discomfort to the bulb causing it to oscillate between turning vomity yellow – green to just cracking into blue billion barnacles..

Eureka!!!!! ( actually the bulb said ‘fucking mother fucking shit!! but that’s been censored since this a pg rated blah blah blah.. psst… who reads this crap anyway?) so idea had an idea and all the world looked super sexy again. He announced in stops and starts , the light and dim language of the ancient Mesopotamian bulbs that they would have a Doobie DooBie doo!!!!!! – the challenge of the stony stars!

The challenge was to correctly demonstrate how a doobie is smoked and the rules do doobiedom. Will the stenos be upto this challenge? In happiness, SK did a few samosasaults ( it’s complicated so don’t ask) while choking on his puke.

Next : return of the stenos – counter theorizing with the master - HYPER BLEE..

despair

2007-07-12T21:34:00.000-07:00

despair
despair is like disease. you need external help to really get rid of it. and like disease you wait till the last minute before you go to the doctor. By then you cant sleep, youre too tired to do anything, you're crabby, whiny and painful for everyone around you. You demand attention, love and you know its annoying being so clingy yet you seem to feel like somehow you deserve it.

but you dont go to the doctor, because of some vain 'ill solve this myself" attitude.so it doesnt go away.

and it starts to itch under your skin
right there in between your eyes
and inside your mindso you go

and do something stupid
and utterly silly
you feed the monsteronce again
till it mutates

despair is an addiction
like the meth stories ive heard
the clawing & scratching
till slowly there's a hole in your brain
and venom in your heart

daydreaming

2007-05-30T05:01:00.000-07:00

my eyes burn. i think its the computer. or something else. this feels odd. feel self conscious now.
no wonder noone reads my blog. im boring.

im bored even as i write. so bored i am already dreaming of doing soemthing else. like gardening. or lying down in the grass. and watching my toes play. with my new ipod. and a summer dress. and daydreaming of doing something else as im lying there. tripping out at a rave on a beach. watching the glo sticks and the headgear bobbing up and down, the waves building on the morning melody. and feeling too happy to speak.

this is a nice daydream. i think i will dream it more.

should i?

2007-04-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

Should i strip off this skin
this mind and the thing
that binds us within us
should i sever this intention
this love this pretense this creation

chronicles - 3

2007-03-17T04:21:00.000-07:00

10 - 16: the bad ass mofo years

after consuming 2116342.67 samosas by the tender age of ten, our hero found a new power. he could smell like anyone he wanted to and if he concentrated his olfactory senses hard enough, he could literally get into the nose of the character. Thus began the bad ass mofo years.

bad ass mofo - SK's smelly identity was the baddesst ass mofo in the ghetto bylanes of yari road village. the papers were full of badd ass mofo exploits - people jumping into trash cans as soon as they saw him, pigs turning a pale shade of green as he passed by, in fact: graphic descriptions of badd ass mofo's nose hair were enough to inspire cleanliness in the laziest bachelors in the area.

but badd ass mofo was no demon. He was , in fact the secret superhero that the anti-steno movement had been waiting for. Samosa Killer had become suficiently enlightened to combine the olfactory and gastonomical powers of his two identities to create one powerful entity, who was called well, Bad ass Samosa Killer ( the creative energies hadnt quite developed as yet, since the twosome were yet to meet idea the bulb)

well anyway, the awesome twosome would terrorize the world of stenos - sending irrestible stomach upsetting geurilla samosas inside tiffin boxes during the day .. and spreading the oily stench during the night.. oh what fun it was!

The professor put down his pen for a second and wiped away an oily tear. TA Cleo rushed to his side and performed the necessary TLC required tocheer up the professor, so that the could get back to his chronicles. after all this was a very important essay on the character and very fabric of society..

the professor rose from his foetal position with renewed vigor and post coital energy and thus the saga continues..

Injury was only the beginning for badd as and SK, the real assualt would be insult. What stenos hated more than anything was an insult to mindless long copy.

As of now SK seemed at a loss to understand the heightened sensibilites required to engineer insult. He needed to pass level 6 . but that was another 50000 samosas away. and his stomach was beginning to look liek a frying pan now. oily grease had started to ooze out and he was beginning to believe that he had actually turned into bad ass .. ( oh no! the machines are taking over!!!)

suddenly SK had a bright idea! . and thus was born idea the bulb

freeze frame

2007-01-25T06:02:00.000-08:00

crash and burn , spin and splatter
every sense convoluted
every reality distorted
then a fleeting stillness
that i stumbled upon in this dance of perspectives

can i stretch it?
elongate it so it lasts till i chose it?
can i walk inside the bubble?
and watch mesmerised

can i shift it?
a little to the left and 2 inches forward
can i add colour?
a rainbow perhaps?

can i own it?
play with it like a faviriote pet
dream about it like an obsession

can i make another one just like it?

dilli dilli , chilly dilli ...

2007-01-20T05:04:00.000-08:00

hello sunshine , goodbye chilly dilli

thats what i thought the minute the " commander of this kingfisher airline" announced that we have finally landed in mumbai.. and the temperature outside is a warm 22 degrees , HELOOO SUNSHINNNEEE..

ok now for a lil boring background and some travelogue type murmerings.. between pauses for vishesh tipnees and smart alecky comments ( a la anthony bourdain)

6 days back i went to delhi for a big event.. or events rather, one happening almost everyday. I managed to squeeze in time to really see delhi a bit, something that ive been wanting to do for long but never really got the chance to .. so alhtough i didnt make it paranthewali galli and do the RDB jig at india gate.. i did manage to get lost inside sarojini market and eat gol gappas and kulcha paratha... :) And of course , notice some of those interesting little things that are "so delhi" . here's my list .. its not too big, just moments i caught and some i pondered upon between work, fatigue and while i was gorging on pancakes and mirchi pakodas ..

1. LOVE... LADKIYAAN... BOLLYWOOD... and my first impression of the delhi reporter

LLB - some radio channel runs this show in delhi and i kept hearing it in every car i sat.. the host is a fellow with a thick dilli accent gossipping about bollywood... i have no idea why its called LLB ( as in why the connect to the LLB degree, why couldnt it be bbm, bollywood...babes.. Masti.. or some such thing ) and im still trying to figure out what the copywriter was thinking ..

Delhi reporters - i had the misfortune of listening to some drunk TOI guy talking.. trying to instigate someone i knew for a quote by being mean on purpose .. maybe its his job but my skin crawledhearing him speak. so my first impression of the delhi reporter - bad taste in my mouth - reminded me of all the stories about delhi men and made me think maybe there s no hope still

2. WHEN IN DELHI , DRESS WAY UP

Delhi is an incredibly well turned out city. everyone is dressed to the tee with colour coordinated belt , shoes/ boots, jacket, inner t shirts and probably even their thermals are designer ..

At sarojini market you can score export rejects for give or take a 100 bucks each. 'Cheena' - A local delhi - punju girl with us made it extremely clear to every vendor within 10 miles of hearing distance that 100 was all we would all pay for any item we pick up. Anytime we needed any expert bargaining, the whole market would hear us yelling 'cheeeeeeeeeeenaaaa' which led to everyone knowing we were imports and thus promptly being rejected by quite a few self respecting delhi shopkeepers for our un-ignorant attitude..

i bought one pair of boots with orange , green and pink colours all in one shoe..one of the local delhi girls with me ( a perfect specimen of the well turned out, fashionperfect delhi) informed me very happily that i could just pass them off as 'original manish arora'!!!!... , just dont tell anybody ok?' ... hmm well ok..

but now there is DICHOTOMY!! . Should i tell people i bought these very cool shoes for 'just 500!!!' or that i bought the 'very IN manish arora'! ...

sigh! life 's a bitch

Anyway moving on.. Also at sarojini market you can find dilli exotica like 'BANTA' - a lime type drink supposedly the nimbu pani of mumbai ( which incidentally ididnt taste) and Sweet potatoes with masala and lime -YUMMMM for 5 - 10 bucks

3. CHILLY DILLI, BUT NOT UNBEARABLY

You can actually get used to the cold. yes there exists such a thing.. I spent six days there. the first outdoor event - 4 layers, second - three, 3rd ( which incidentally was a case of false bravado gone reallly bad sinc ethat event was in an extremely cold area and after a while i was turning a pale shade of blue) - 2 layers .. Strangely enough i didnt get sick , no cold nothing and i actually didnt freeze to death.
Just make sure you wear monkey cap, gloves and socks at all times. thats good enough

4. JUT v/s JAAT

attention this is a 'did you know' moment
apparently the northie JAT and the northie JUT are two different avatars and not simply two different pronounciations of the same animal.
this is what came from a very pretty Jut horse's mouth ( disclaimer : this is all hearsay and there may be few errors in reproduction since at the time i was salivating over luscious looking aloo parantas at Not Just Parathas - GKII delhi)

The originals were the JAATS - the warriors .. those bulky huge haryanvi fellows who double as bouncers at gurgaon pubs .. and then some of them moved north and got into cultivation .. so they for some reason became known as the JUTS.. usually in delhi and many of these converted to the SIKH religion.. so today's JUTS are sikhs mostly ( i think - cause they talk shudh punjabi) and they are all over delhi

5. 'oye ministerji, gun shun chala do, signal khulva do', aap bhi laal baati , yeh bhi laal batti..
overheard in delhi - punju girl at the wheel telling lal batti gaadi mein minsterwala in the next lane to use his 'firepower' and change the signal from red to green

I am sure the city has some killer female hindi copywriters... specially the punju dilli girls. Ive met three now and all of them crack me up with their hilarious rejoinders, dramatic descritpions of things , people and places and general murmerings.. they seem to be constantly talking, muttering something or the other , its one streamof constant chatter of completely crazy perspectives...

I recommed the hindi descriptions of a night of heavy drinking - a definite must - hear.
Current top of the chart is - simran followed closely by cheena

6. AND FINALLY --- There are people in delhi who have never been to bombay!!!!!!
Its a crying shame isnt it?? i wonder how they sleep at night
Both the drivers that i spent the maximum car time with have never been to bombay and it is their one dream to see the city.. it was very endearing and i felt terribly homesick as i was answering their questions on traffic, where the stars live and what happens on juhu beach

thank god im back. this is the bestest city ever. though delhi wasnt as bad as i had imagined it would be. at least it felt like a living breathing city , full of crazy experiences and anti mellow just the way i like it.. hope i can go again and experience more of dilli dilli ( like that black eyed peas song)

special thanks to GURPREET for showing me around, making sure i ate gol gappas, paratha kulcha, and rajma chawal and that i bought my very own mac kajal, and delhi clothes and for just being good fun!:)

mojo questions

2007-01-11T04:41:00.001-08:00

i think i have forgotten how to write.

now its all slap dash one liners and slogans and taglines and headlines..
but no real words

that sounds totally idiotic.

question is however, how do i get my mojo back?
and the bigger question... did i have any to begin with

i went to goa for new year. i think i will live there one day. im happiest with the sand between my toes

unu Yongho

2006-12-01T06:15:00.000-08:00

thats my new name. or actually my virtual one. its finally here. a virtual lifestyle & a parallel universe.
some company has gone and started www.secondlife.com which offeres well literally, a second life for anyone who has the stomach for it. i joined up of course.

its terribly exciting... i get a new name, a new face, new friends, new places to party , nightclubs where i can hear 'live' music, new job, land to own, a business to build, etc etc,

so i am now unu yongho. musician. :) i was thinking of becoming avatar creator , maybe i will switch in some time.. once i learn the ropes of this thing..

have a feeling im going to enjoy my virtual life much more than my real one. how sad am i. but for people who need some release.. second life is brilliant. simply brilliant.

sunday

2006-10-08T06:36:00.000-07:00

another wasted sunday.

woke up in a foul mood at 6 30 pm on a sunday evening after a nap
before the nap had gorged on chocolate eclairs, lays chips and an oily puff
puff goes the diet..

what is it about sunday evening that always makes me irriatble?

think its the ominous looming of the end of the holiday
or the realisation that i didnt do nearly enough
or the fact that monday morning holds nothing interesting
or just a feeling of an overloaded stomach and guilt pangs

but today i did stuff. watched 3/4 of abbas kuorastami's through the olive trees
its bleak yet hopeful landscapes and lovely characters, each one so easily likeable
and just when everything was going good, the film stops for no apparent reason , once because of power failure and nce becuas eapparently the dvd had mothing more..

and then i leaped into a wild sheep chase, murakami's crazy book that i am finding secret time for
i steal glances at it at work and take it with me to the loo , and try and make out the bobbing up & down letters in the rickshaw.. what fun it is being completely consumed by something..

an then i fell asleep. perfect ambience, pillow, position, panghrun everything.. snore snore for the next 2 hours

maybe the trouble is. i woke up and the day isnt over. ive got at least 7 hours more..
and nothing fun left to do..

maybe i will download and watch frasier episodes.. or read the andy warhol book i got!! yay i bought th andy warhol book!!!!

chronicles - part 2

2006-06-15T03:58:00.000-07:00

Early beginnings , mindless musings

Long years ago a little boy in blue shorts and fuchsia pink singlet walked around barefoot in a green house.

He stopped to smell dahlias and sighed and whispered secret scandals to the flowers
girls, charmed to see a boy in touch with his girlie side, swarmed to feel his little soft flesh that poked out from behind his ears. Our boy- hero was a regular heartbreaker, booty shaker.

The little boy’s parents thought he was their precious but his impish grin fooled no one. Underneath those curls and big brown doggy eyes was a brain with an Intel inside chip. Working quicker, faster and with an automatic recovery button the boy was a lean mean, mental machine
Everyone was intrigued by the little genius but what excited boy wonder himself the most was well as is the case with most diabolical geniuses – himself. He would stare at his own thoughts floating in front of him in awe. Over and over again. Till everyone around him began to wonder if he was dreaming himself up too. The local doctor was called to rid the boy of his waking stupor but no tantric, magician, phd ,mba, mbbs, phd, dmt, or lsd could solve the problem. And it wasn’t just because they were all acronyms either.

At last sri sri rishi rishi muni muni came came... He predicted that the boy would soon have a double dream where his true selves all two of them would be revealed to him in their dual splendor. And soon enough the boy fell into a deep slumber where visions of not 2 not 3 but all his 30 million nether and come hither worlds went flashing past like boomerangs only never to return.

When our hero woke, he felt a rumbling in his belly the kind which he had never experienced. every sense , every whiff of air he scented he could smell the rich oil and jeera. he leaped towards the kitchen and ravaged every triangle shaped svaoury he could find.

soon the pleasant rumbling gave way to a quieter more gentle sounds of the samosas turning softly in his belly.. . it was almost as if the samosa was talking to him. explaining to him what the big question and the big answer was. every secret of the universe spilled out in front of him like oil on tissue paper, or ink from a pen, or juice squeezed out a mango.. or well you get the picture or the story or ..

The samosa , bobbing up and down in bile was a great storyteller ,while also being a great swimmer.. what Fuchsia Boy- who incidentally knows how to do a fantastic crotch dance - did not know that he had managed to ingest the samosa seer. Soon he was called
dudeshwar raja - samosaon ka baadshah (old frying pan saying)

Samosa seer taught the little boy all about life and everything else, including how to escape if the weird white moonwalker comes your way .. and how to properly digest a samosa ( exact proportion of fluids ) but the most important lesson was - Samosa your secret weapon.. Yes, friends the samosa seer told our boy all the stories about the deadly samosa killer gang of 167 BC ( before cooking) .. and fuchsia boy soon realised he had ruminated on his life calling.. the one weapon that would need no grease. the SAMOSA. and thus the idea of becoming the samosa killer came to be digested..

reincarnation

2006-06-15T03:26:00.000-07:00

delhi ahoy.

headed in the direction of the captial city and wondering what it holds for me.

i did a round of blog reading today. a friend of a friend of a firend - shreya lathia apparently is a famous blogger(shreyalathia.blogspot.com) . personal publishing creating virtual stars, luminaries of online literature.

what wonderful times we live in. you don like your life, go online and pick another. you pick a lifestyle & a name to go with it, join a chat room or a forum and talk to people about it, and finally write about it and get famous in the 'other' world. the process of reincarnation is complete.

its liek you can sit in front of a computer and live an entire lifetime.

now all we need is virtual reality tv. our virtual lives 'exposed!!'

meghana

chronicles of a dick head - part 1

2006-04-12T09:58:00.000-07:00

sub title : my mind is a penis and other extrapolations

When the samosa killer discovered he was suffering from samosa flu cause by bacillus stupendous, he enrolled TA Cleo to pen down his last remaining memories. Yes the very same Cleo who is credited with masterpieces like the international best seller ‘parabolic peeing and hyperbolic viewing – a psychedelic healing experience’. The book was highly acclaimed and especially noted by the Duke of Paracetemol as a seminal analysis on cokeheads.

Here are a few excerpts from her as yet unfinished masterpiece – Chronicles of a dick head... A unique creative form that emerged from a con – genital rapport between Cleo and Major Major (a.k.a samosa killer) inducing deep deep thought that provoked her pen to write his memoirs.

"Professor. How brilliant you are!”.. Her nipples poked out petulantly out of her tight white shirt as she leaned over me. I had just finished the final blueprint of my new steno killer machine. What a masterpiece. Soon every single typing ink loving, spelling error making, breast heaving steno worth her shorthand would clasp her typewriter in fear at the very smell & sound of the whirring, growling ‘Steno Killer’

Steno Killer would be a revolution, it would shake the very foundation of the Shorthand Sirens- a secret society of stenos determined to convert every picture, every advertisement every television into long copy. It would viciously, vicariously vouch for vendetta and vindicate the very respectable copy writers who were spearheading the "Out with teh long, in with the short" movement

Ah! Samosa Killer rubbed his very obviously oily hands in grotesque glee. See what we will do to yoru short little hands my lovelies.. see how my Steno Killer will purge you of your so called skills.. heee haa hee haaa aaa..

..ahem.. err... the professor laughed.

inside me

2006-03-29T08:53:00.000-08:00

when golden trees shed their glitter inside capuccino cups
when sweet smelling fantasy leaps out into reality
when arenas open and elements intermingle
arms outstretched i dive in deep and free

but bittersweet memories cloud minds, restrain spirits
impending darkness drinks in the light of the blue sky
laughter from forgotten moments shadows of a better life
haunt my footsteps, chase me in my dreams.

neo's choice

2006-02-22T05:45:00.000-08:00

The One now has several two choices. as usual. freedom or freed from boredom? perennial peace or Fox 'breaking news' Bending spoons or dessert spoons? trinity in a shroud or gisele bundechen in a french parlour maid uniform? living for morpehus or living it up on morphine? No TV or TV on his phone , in his house, in his bedroom, on his laptop, as he looks up , down, sideways or angular The blue pill or well... the blu'e' pill Neo scratches his head, looks around and leaps out.

about madness

2005-12-14T05:25:00.001-08:00

I look around and i see eccentrics everywhere. crawling out of the woodwork, popping up like jack in the box's , running around scuffling, shuffling , working feverishly, blowing smoke question marks.. and genrally tripping.

I guess we are all crazy. yeah i know. im stating the obvious. actually i make a living from that so im excused. But really normal is abnormal. or maybe its utopian. these days variants, deviants, para sub and ab normal are all the rage. check any disco after 11 pm. everyone wants to 'stand out'. it makes an interesting sight for the spectator.. watching the flunkies, junkies and kinky ski monkeys letting it all hang out. reminds me of the song californication.

my own madness is apparent when i get dream like flashes of though. getting flashes of jumping off a cliff these days. its a very nice image. i can almost feel the breeze at the back of my neck. think its perhaps a long time dream of bungee jumping. although id like to jump off into another universe. every time i get stressed, boing! im on a beach ..boing! now im surfing in australia..boing! now im shopping on london street..like a crazy ball im being transported by the 'trampoline of my imagination' haw haw

but god, i like the matrix, its fun here.

sequel to matrix 3: Matrix 4: the big sellout.

Neo meets trinity's ghost who has been transported into the matrix but lives like ..well a ghost. She looks like a goddess and tells him while looking deeply into his deep blue eyes that a deep realisation came to her... chicken and chanel can hardly be replaced with black leather & metal bugs. After all even a really long rave party must end. as opposed to botox which makes sure your youth never does. Neo begins to wonder.. is the peace really as much fun as Fox news during war time?... hmmm

next installment. coming soon. watch this space

thanks for all the fish

2005-12-01T04:49:00.001-08:00

Thanks for listening all you guys.

Today there is dull yellow light on my desk , annoying clients in the conference room, leftovers of stress headache, paul oakenfold screaming ready steady go in my ears and the hope of an early evening out of office..

good stuff this oakenfold, shall download some more.

I ws surfing blog-hopping the other day and reached ateyas blog.. was reading her post about the teststerone spilling out from LOTR all over the train.. the words flowed and flowed.. i think along with the testosterone, little black letters also came spilling out from LOTR into her fingers, only difference is that they werent as boring as testosterone and they had their own quality..

i think here shoudl be a blog database... like a large database with millionsof categories.. and everyones blog featured on it.. yknow telephone directory types.. great reading material and absolutely the best place for media guys to find good writing talent i think.

Maybe it should be marketed as a job site of sorts... thats how the website would make money also. Pay a small premium to showcase your blog
(much much more flexible than the traditional resume format) to ad guys, publishers etc. take money from prospective employers to place ads.. the whole thing..

now who would give me money to develop and market this?

WANTED
'Ambassador of Kwan'
- Must have moolah enough to buy a small country
- Must completely believe that I could be the founder member of Ideas Alchemist Inc.
(tagline: ideas that turn green to gold - of course ill only market to America!. thats where the money is people!! not to mention millions of extremely stupid consumers)
- Must believe in me so much that he signs a
no-hard-feelings-if-idea-flops-badly contract with me

please contact me at ideasalchemist@gmail.com

Thats all folks!

'flow'

2005-12-01T04:49:00.000-08:00

i cant rap, i cant rhyme.. all i can do is bide my time.. im hoping to get there, find my kwan.. so i write for a dime , from morning to next dawn...

hee hee.

complaint box

2005-11-30T09:48:00.000-08:00

i think everyones given up on me. no new comments or anything...:(

so ill pretend noones listening and write whatever im thinking. which is kind of nice actually.

its 11 25 pm and im still in office. too tired to go home, sushama has kindly lent me her house.. thank god. im about to crash out and die any minute. i dream of sleep these days. i dream of an endless long sleep .. i try and create the perfect conditions at home to make sure i get the most from my 5 odd hours .. the temperatur has to b just right. ive got to have my warm jaipuri razai and all that jazz. rahuls place is nice though. its very comfortable.. im looking forward to it.

there is some incredibly annoying music playing right now. kishore kumar at 11 30 pm at unbearabel decibel levels ..sigh.. im close to breaking a few things.

life is lateral metaphors. life is black raised letters and mechanical movements of the tips of fingers. life is walking in between awake and asleep. im glamousiring this but its actually horribly dull. although the work i do sometimes makes it ok. amongst other stuff.

i still have no cam phone and no money now to buy it.

ok cribbed too much. goodnight

vertigo

2005-11-19T05:55:00.000-08:00

heard U2's vertigo ( jackknife remix) in office this evening.

what an experience. a blaze of images whizzed past sucked into a deep blue vortex..
urban escape . is what the music video should be called if i could ever make it.

i saw myself standing on a building and leaping into the vortex and watchign people in the buildings i fell past , hair touching the glass panes lightly and fingers leaving their mark on ledges. fell past television reds, bronze patches of leftover makeup, rainbow kitchenettes and ugly bedrooms with stars on the ceiling ..

I close my eyes & open them wide into landscapes of black notepads.. mirror balls reflecting sweat droplets on 'crimson nails' reflected in shot glasses and hanging jesus drawing blood from necks, flashes of a waist chain glittering 'i scream' it says .. , i turn to watch sunglasses flicked across the table and visuals of everyone in the room flash through the lens.. like eyes flying ... i can see everywhere.. i can feel.

back and still boring

2005-08-12T03:05:00.000-07:00

ok havent posted in a really long time.. people have most likely stopped visiting the blog anymore and have generally gievn up on me.. but here i am again. hopefully ill stay longer this time

im waiting to buy my camera phone next month so i will blog more.. only illblog on mobylog.. put pictures up there.. everybody please try mobylog , if you have a camphone its the best photobloggin site.

other news. another kelvan happening.. boooring.. one long weekend and ihave to sepnd it kelvaning.. very sad. but maybe sinnar and scenic beauty might make up thres also the prospect ofthe long drive there.. which will be nice

although id rather sleep. been sleep deprived for too long now.. feel zonked and woozy all thetime.. perpetual state of zonkiness.

now listenign to bjork on a relatively free day at work.. pagan poetry. screaming writhing vocals. making me feel all strung up inside.

have decided tolive on my own for the next four months or so till the wedding.. just like that .
have almost found a nice house, cheap rent and allthat. and also found a roomie.. keepign fingeres crossed that it willhappen..my new address could soon be DN nagar andheri qwest !! yay

ive never lived away from family and its probably the only time ll get to be totally on my own.. everybody thinks its a stupid move, think ill probably get too used to it and wont be able to adjust livign with a familya gain.. but im doing it anyway .. as usual :)

thats all now.. getting ready to do the usual ..

hitchiking

2005-05-13T05:41:00.000-07:00

hitchiked on a sentence gifted
disconnected in an shot glass

crystals gazed out from behind the bliss
blue with black intersections on brown skin
the grey sky crawled inside the slits of my eyes
a strand of breath rested lopsided on a compromising ear
whsipering confessions of a street away from here

Feeling in convoluted emotions
ripping time away from time
tearing it to shreds and walking on glass
now im bleeding to feel alive

Watching the gravel through perspective views
sitting on the edge , slipping off the bed
and climbing back again
the hint of a smile creeping along the sidelines
words coming crawling into my fingers
eyes closed and im dreaming again

meghana

soul plane

2005-04-04T07:02:00.000-07:00

I see you
on the taxi
watching the fog cloud up your window
tired dark violet skinnails scribbling on the surface
eyes betraying the contemptous smile
I think you see me too

stopping on the streetnext to you
adjusting pieces of me
brown upside down vision
caustic lips moving to the rythym of the acid rain
sliding down onto the sidewalk
fingers twisting to a desperate piano

we drive all nightto get to here
walk into minds climb the walls of space & times
cale laterally slip smooth
whisper into dreams
the circles & circles & circles go on
never stop spinning

me & you in the reflecting pool
simple.clean.joy
skinned.deseeded
raw

limbo

2005-03-20T08:01:00.000-08:00

this is a strange place. somewhere between the private & the public. Till i knew that nobody really read my blog i could post whatever i felt like.. and now more people are reading it occassionaly and i have become vaguely aware of a few eyes on me. thats probably why i have started erasing and typing instead of just typing.

2005-03-16T09:58:00.000-08:00

my sonu clicked me

2005-03-16T09:56:00.000-08:00

bms freindlies..

million dollar baby for 70 rupees

2005-03-13T22:20:00.001-08:00

saw million dollar baby on a nice warm sunday afternoon with an old friend. Incredibly beautiful lookign film i thought... and actually quite inspiring. It makes you ( or me at least ) want to get up and find that one overiding passion that completley engulfs you. but of course its gotto be cinematic ,its gotto be soemthing glamourous like boxing or i dunno climbing the everest or dancing or soemthing.. ! its gotto be the arts or even mathematics but not as dull as accoutnancy .. soemthing like a beautiful mind..

i wonder if they will ever make a film on thsi guy who always wanted to be the worlds best typist.. and he met this catholic aunty who refused to take him on becasue she believes "boys cant type"?

but i quite liked the film. Hillary swank was great and even better was clint eastwood. JUst got a little scared that i hope at 50 i don look back and realise ive never doen anything really exceptional in my life. Hmmmmm... ( thats probably my reaction would be at the big realisation)

i wonder if being passionately cynical counts as a passion?

this post

2005-02-25T06:01:00.000-08:00

This post to say i have no clear reason or direction in mind. This post to say that out loud so i dont put that thought back in the recesses of my mind and slip into the usual comfortable numbness

evening in office

2005-02-23T05:53:00.000-08:00

this is another evening in office.. im feeling tired but blogging is nice. i finished an interesting project today. We were asked to come up with ideas on how to make people wear & carry condoms - those who frequent brothels.. KP , cotton green areas etc.

We did soem pretty creative things.. genereally having a blast till we reached objective number three. Now objective number three had us styumped. it said 'dispel the myth that people who wear condoms are infected' .. !!! dispel the myth! ..just like that. besides i was wondering how did such an opinion form in the first place? then it struck me that ironically .. its possible that ngo ( like the one we were 'servicing') probably did some campaign in the area that said that infected people can have sex provided they wear condoms' ... perhaps that campaign was a little too successful?..advertising has such power.. oof.. now im feeling all burdened with responsibility ..

but who has the time? to be repsonsible.. to think before i deicde hwo to treat a communication, to weigh the psosible effects, positive & negative.. (there are a couple of million im sure).. who has the time?? ..and what a frivolous excuse that is..sigh

i have a body ache now and im cranky.. more tomorrow... this is getting to be a nice habit..

stalkers on saturday afternoon

2005-02-12T02:43:00.000-08:00

radioheads thom yorke is 'climbing up the walls' ..very creepily

Its surreal .. this..listeining to songs about stalkers on saturday afternoons in office. is surreal rightly used here? malapropism! .. i really should stop giving people these unsolicited insights into my cluttered brain by starting and stopping streams of thoughts like this.. hmmm

i have just been to mukuls blog, sonus blog, rohans blog & ninads blog.. and nwo im feeling terribly inadequate. but we trudges ons. This putting eses after everything is a reuslt of a long association with vaibhav verma.. i wonder how many other things i say or do are reflections of people ive met or been friends with.

That reminds me. i think that originality has been exhausted. i was telling rohan this yesterday and he said originality was a myth in the first place.. i started feeling a little better about shameless co - opting taglines & skewing them to my own concepts.. :) but sometimes it feels like this is IT and nothing newer can ever be imagined , no other treatment is possible. Very humbling then when sampath comes up with something better in the next instant.

How sad , by the time we make up words like creativity & originality ...the moments have already passed!!

toodles people now.. i shall blog again this very evening...

sunday morning chatter

2005-01-28T02:08:00.000-08:00

sunday morning. i got up early today dtermined to squeeze every minute of holiday time from this day. its really terrible getting only a day off in the week.. its ironic that i write for a living and yet get absolutley no time to write on my blog.

of course writing at work is very different. its incredibly difficult , ive realised to do 3 word encapsualtions of every thing.. my boss Sampat does it beautifully .. ( no he dosen read this blog) .. very ideas man. His life is full of eureka moments.

last night we had a little party as his house. very tiny place. one room kitchen house at oshiwara.. i love these houses with one person living in them. they awlasy look so bare.. the floor has no carpet and the kitchen has no supplies.. and theres one single bed right there in the hall.. hehe 'ruckus it is' as sampat would say. ruckus is sucha fun word you can use it anywhere and anytime...very versatile thing.

we had some vodka, listened to lots of trance ( both sampat & anoop - another colleague are HUGE trance fans) and trance is really nto so bad ... ironically if you listen to it at any place other than a disco its quite ok. very non intrusive music.. good for house parties.. quietly seems to chug along int he background and lets the conversation take over. and its great to listen to at work. kind of oddly enough stimulating. specially good for woking with deadlines.. kind of energising. i heard this strange thing that these days they are playing trance at shopping malls & cinemas becasue soem study established that it speeds up the lines. MIND control!!!!!.. aye but i dont mind control.. hheheheh..

this post has gone on too long now.. and im bored with the chatter.. signing off

office office

2004-12-20T05:06:00.000-08:00

i got a new job. its an interesting profile. I "ideate" supposedly. to sell stuff. not really advertising. Its apprently called below the line marketing. we liek to think of ourselves as hyrbid marketers. 'more" than marketing. talk about self esteem issues.

well so far its been interesting. nothing else to say really , all our work is also "confidential" ..basically we are hybrid advertisers cum CIA operatives. we "operate" till the wee hours of morning ( at least hardworking concept developers liek me).. juggling words and ideas trying to trap the unsuspecting "TG" .. yes we also love our acronyms. TG stands for target group to the uninitated. Our puerpose in life is to hook , sell a line and sink this poor TG animal into the abyss that is the "brand". Clients are people from the other side, the ones that created this brand fellow , and whose next 3 generations are all set to benefit from the sinking gooey chocolate mass that surrouds this boy.

and the client servicing team?.. poor bastards is all i can say..

dearest

2004-12-10T19:45:00.000-08:00

now hes gone..
and the leaves being a slow wither
gravel turns to dust and sand into concrete

i still feellike i could trace a picture of him
slumping on the boot of the car with a little soft smile
and hands placed awkwardly
not knowing what to dowith themselves

if i had a box i would open it and the instances
of the time we met in bylanes and the time we kissed in sort of silly ways
and of the times we threw stones and laughed at silly noises
and watched the tide wash our feet ...
would pour out into the open road before us

then as i think , you turn around , watch me
teardrops listlessly sitting in my minds eye,
begin to dry under your cotton stare..

meghana

2004-12-09T02:27:00.000-08:00

meghana

rambling

2004-12-02T20:06:00.000-08:00

i was called last week to judge a dance competition at a nearby college, not because i had any special qualifications, rather they couldnt find anyone else to do it. They needed soembody young ( 22 - 25 counts as young) and totally jobless in life so myneighbour who is one of the teachers there promptly asked me. I reached prabhodankar thackeray hall at precisely 10 15 am.. there i met the other judge , an older woman around 35 - 38, who is a lawyer, legal consultant and shiv sena worker.. her only qualification in dance is tht she likes it. hmmm... ( *arched eyebrow)

well so anyway this competition starts off , with an opening act by somebody..i forget who exaclty and lemme just say.. how bad the whoel thing was.. without being politcally correct..people it was bad. sorry and all i knwo i shoudl be nice appreciate young peoples hard work and ehtusiasm but sorry it was bad. bottomline. and bad becasue it lacked imagination. at least the senior college program was totally devoid of imagination. everybody came onstage danced to DHOOm mostly it was dhoom and then went away.. soem of the synchronised group dances wwere allight but overall.. sadness.. but of course im no authrity

anyway enough rambling.. i just got back from job interview ..ive been going everyday for soem interview or the other these days.. all good fun . today was at an ad agencu.. hehe .. some tp he made me do .. cathcline and principal idea.. who cares.. noones listening to me!!!!!!

sigh.. gbye

back

2004-12-02T20:01:00.000-08:00

now im back after a long hiatus..

wrote this last morning.. called overdosed.

circles open arcs extend , pictures and words and tranformations descend
around me ,lights form contract and seize shapes and humans compose , decompose
i watch , unknowingly fingers touch keys
sustenance dribbles onto my palm
some here some there, bits and peices of papercoins and cards and saved up good sense
and erratic conversations with people i used to know

i see someone s phtographs of a different lifeof a holiday , of a beginning and inbetween phases
coffee is sipped , biscuits are broken and conversation? and conversation trudges along...

overdosing on time, hallucinating about storylines
complete with nothing , replete with space
gorged on the big empty now filled to satiation..

finally

2004-11-05T18:48:00.000-08:00

well finally i seem to be getting somewhere with this.. ive just learned that i need to enable comments ..in order for people to comment.. hopefully the things worked now.

testing.. testing.. 123

imposter!

2004-11-05T05:56:00.000-08:00

yes well i discovered through accident or by accident.. someone has a blog called- mumuring.blogspot.com and mine is murmering.blogspot.com ( spelling error not onpurpose.. result of skipping the spell check for too long) ..

strange coincidence

number two

2004-11-04T20:21:00.000-08:00

its a very bad morning weather wise.. all hot and humid and my palms are getting sweaty as i type..

now that im initiated .. this is from last night

Black frustration
between sips of warm milk and cartoon exhibitionists on tv i let msyelf dream of conversation , shadows in the darkness escapinghand in hand without turning back, of a quiet revolution. but then im stumbling fumbling into my sober reality without the secret madness with only a stark entrance

where songs live on the exterior muscians at the doorstep a band playing up and voices sweetly whining , a piano stumbles on a guitar tries to wrest my attention words float up hoping to entice me as i fumble through with someone elses hands , in someone elses shoes

and i think of all the people like me in this place, people in walking parks , in houses like the morning, and lives like the calm murmer of a heart sleeping
who discuss stories of solitude with coffee cups and wonder without wandering, resisting those foul temptations
screaming through satisfied smiles of black frustration.

meghana

me

2004-11-04T19:41:00.000-08:00

hello now im blogging.. i hope.

joyous is me