About winter, happy smiles and drying flowers.....

Lately, I've been getting news about people falling in love from all quarters.... old school friends, college pals, colleagues, cousins, you name it- and they've fallen in love! Its so cool! I feel so nice to see everyone coupling up....and though I'm otherwise occupied (ie, too much work, I'm married to my books!).... I'm just loving it!

Its getting fractionally colder, and people are pulling out their pull overs. The air is getting crispier and I keep needing moisturiser. After monsoons, I like winters second best, because its such a nice time to walk in the afternoon sunshine. I remember, when I was nine and was down with chicken pox in the winter, and I'd spend all my afternoons in the sprawling lawns updating my "dried flowers" collection.... pressing them into heavy hardbounds, borrowing them from Dad... so things like "World War 2 : Strategy" had a daisy drying on page 257 and a chrysanthemum falling out of page 674....

It's lovely being in a sidewalk cafe on a wintry afternoon, and feeling the sunlight streaming down on cold faces. And smiling stupidly, wearing gaily colored sweaters and sneakers.

Today I was walking down a street early evening, and there was this cute little girl in her school uniform playing about at a bus stop a happy smile faint on her lips. She looked at me and smiled hestitantly, testingly... and I smiled back, because it felt so right....to smile like that- unmindful and without reason...

well, just!

"Why do we have to listen to our hearts?"
"Because, wherever your heart is, that is where you'll find your treasure."

Paulo Coelho

Churchgate!!!

I love Churchgate station. Random thought, but I love the place. More than anything I love it because there have been many sunny Sunday afternoons that I have spent there, with a truly adored person. Its such a pleasant place, dipped in Sepia. Its nicely deserted on weekends, and its so comforting to sit in a stationery train, hardly filling in, sipping on railway coffee, and talking to your best friend.
I assosciate it with lazy evenings after a shrieky afternoon shopping frenzied at Colaba Causeway with friends. Going back home and thinking how silly everyone still is. And then just laughing madly!
And now, I travel (occasionaly) to and fro to Churchgate, thanks to my office!
What a transition! I miss seju!

take a picture of me!

Presently, I'm auditing a Sikh trust, and to say the very least, its a completely new experience. Though I do like to put down a "lil bit of Punjabi" in my heritage, being in a Gurudwara all the time, is rather new. Eating with loads of people in the langar, covering your head (and being told politely everytime you forget to), visiting the Gurudwara, trying your hand at solving books primarily maintained in Punjabi, and learning about the culture... its all very exciting.

I feel that someone should take a picture of me!

Make three wishes....

another beautiful excerpt from one of my fav books....

" You said, 'I love you and my love for you makes any other life a lie.' Can this be true, this simple obvious message, or am I like those shipwrecked mariners who seize an empty bottle and eagerly read out what isn't there? And yet you are there, here, sprung like a genie to ten times your natural size, towering over me, holding me in your arms like mountain sides. Your hair is blazing and you are saying, 'Make three wishes and they shall all come true. Make three hundred and I will honour every one.' "

Jeanette Winterson,
Written On the Body.

Indelible

A bucket of paint, I dip my fingers in the iridescent stuff,
and so do you, we draw on the walls of this empty space,
you drew the wonders of your world, as we'd promised,
and all I could paint, was the wonder of your face.

We drew happiness, and mirth and joy, together
You painted me in colors and I painted in your hue,
You drew me with Chrysanthemums in my hair, laughing,
And for happiness, I painted you.

You daubed paint on every wall, leaving behind your unmistakable marks
You wrote on every nook, and I treasured it so,
You wrote as well, indelible, on me,
But its forbidden love , so it wont show.


Sanjana R Chandorkar
13/11/2007

Melody of you...

"You're the scent of an unfound bloom
A simple tune I only write variations to
A drink that will knock me down on the floor
A key that will unlock the door
Where I hear a voice sing familiar themes
Then beckons me weave notes in between
A bow and a string, a tap and a glass
You pour me till the day has passed.... "

the cranberries, Melody of You.

Life...

"Imagine life is a game in which you are juggling five balls. The balls are called work, family, health, friends, and integrity. And you're keeping all of them in the air. But one day you finally come to understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls— family, health, friends, integrity—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered. And once you truly understand the lesson of the five balls, you will have the beginnings of balance in your life."


Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas
James Patterson.

I LOVED this book. Its a simply written beautiful love story. It broke my heart, and I gasped because I was surprised that I could be that touched by such a tremendously simple and sincere story. If you're an out and out romantic and adore new families, and little kids, this one's for youuu!
Also, not a usual genre for James Patterson, but he's done a wonderful job.

wrong be your thoughts

wrong be your thoughts, and wrong be your ideals, sacred as they are
If you cannot love me, truly and deep,
You've walked long and you've reached far,
And you still come across to me, in your sleep.
Wrong be your thoughts, leaden be your arms
If they don't strain to hold me , me close
Strange be your name, if not entwined with mine,
And if alone be your love, sunken in woes.
Wrong be your love, if it is not mine,
Empty be your home, without me to make it complete,
Wrong be your thoughts, wrong be your dreams ,
And until from my lips, may sugar never be sweet.
Wrong be those sane thoughts without you in them,
Unworthy be those letters not adressed to you,
Careless be those walks without your side,
Wrong be those thoughts, wrong , without you
Unforgiven, those mistakes not committed to take me,
Unholy, that land, not trodden upon to reach for me,
Darkening that sunshine that doesnt shine upon us together,
And bitter that honey that doesnt pour on you, on me.


Sanjana R Chandorkar

31st October 2007

My First Pay!!

So, yesterday i.e. 8 November 2007, was the day they handed over my very first and very own pay cheque to me!! All I want to do is to look at it like an indulgent mother looking at her baby! And then show it off to every possible person! I'm 18, and I'm earning (though only stipend), and I'm bloody proud and happy about it!!!

run

"I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbye
I nearly do

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

Slower slower
We don't have time for that
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear, my voice
I'll be right beside you, dear"

Snow Patrol.

Quirky

and I LIKE it. So for all those people saying "Why ARE you like this? Grow up! How Weird! "

To them,

"GO TAKE A HIKE, MISTER!"

I don't understand other people's concept of happiness sometimes. And I don't like being told over n over n over n over again how weird I am or how weirdly I think. I can be just as normal as you are, as colorless as you are and as plain as the next person. Walking down brick lanes, I can choose not to play hopscotch. I can choose to stand properly in the bus. I can choose to pretend I like something I don't. I can choose to be dishonest when I'm not. I can choose to fall for some sensible guy. I can choose the pale pink over the over-the-top red. I can choose to act like a grown-up. And I can choose to sit normally, smile docilely, and not act upon the various naughty things that I keep thinking of. I can choose to have deadened eyes. I can choose to be mature, sensible and everyday.

But I choose to be me. And I like it. YOU telling me "Grow Up" is not going to make me. I have enough reality in my life without adding some more of yours. I like to think the world is a pretty place with honest people. Life is terribly plain, and I like to liven mine up this way. SO for goodness's sake, get a life and stop telling ME to grow up.

Love Me- Love My Quirkiness.

November Rain

its november and its raining.
and i would have felt like singing 'November Rain', had it been a slightly happier song. I hear the raindrops fall on the metal ledge of my window, and I run out to the terrace in the blue moonlight, dark night. But the rain is not even that. Its a slight drizzle. And soon its gone. My hair isnt even damp. The cottons not marginally soaked. And I've played on the wet granite, but im not wet. I've danced nimbly in the dark night in the grass, and emerald drops form on those blades on grass, barely.
nothing lasts forever , eh?