smile

"I adore you, why do I?

-Because you are the manifestation of all my dreams. Smile, and the world changes color. "

C R A S H H H H into me

"You've got your ball
You've got your chain
Tied to me tight, tie me up again
Who's got their claws
In you my friend
Into your heart I'll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
And sweet you roll
Lost for you
I'm so lost for you
You come crash into me
And I come into you"

dave matthews band!

I hated this song- it was always too haphazardly sung... and suddenly I fell in love with it!
I LOVE the way he says "crasssshhhhhhhhhhhh" into me!

A Fine Balance.

I have just finished reading yet another of those "novels" I keep lugging about and have to show the cover to the aah-so-interested people in my day. Usually this interest last only as long as to see that the very heavy book I'm soo engrossed in, is not the latest harry potter/ eragon/dan brown/ bullshit, and thus is returned to me without further comment. During my love affair with Seth's magnus opus A suitable boy, I lost count of the number of people who tried to pull the same joke off " Oh! are you finding a suitable boy for yourself?" ha ha . Fact of the matter is that today's generation of non-readers and their kin, whose entire literary column extends to three or four very famous books/authors are oblivious to the entire joyousness of the good Ole experience of reading a book, the entire span of the days when you live the characters, laugh at their experiences and mourn with them at their misfortunes. Nowadays it is more of a race, so as to say, to read the newest best seller, lest anyone should let the cat out of the bag.

I, when I was younger, steered clear of Indian authors. For me, what they wrote was too close to home. If I read a book, I wanted to be lost in the English scones and the Californian sun. So I read up the usual "English Fiction" stuff... Archer, Sheldon, Follet (my fav!), Grisham (whom I still can't read)...
But how long can anyone read a book with the usual half a dozen murders, a couple of illicit romances, and the everyday million dollars of embezzlement?

And that is when I found A Suitable Boy. I know I sound like i can kiss the earth Vikram Seth walks on, but honestly, this book changed the way I read. My choice of books and thus, a large and significant part of my life. A good book stays with you, and I usually re-read my favourites, but this one book is one I don't want to, for the simple reason that if you were to return to a long lost lover, they would always dull when compared to the memory you had of them . The affair would seem far more glamorous than it was actually, and the second acquaintance, would thus diminish the joy of your first one.

So, anyways, my experience with my first Indian author encouraged me to read more. and that is how i chose Mr Rohinton Mistry, Family Matters. I remember the same feeling enveloped me the last time i read him as is now while reading A fine balance.

The thing about reading any of his works, is that the characters begin to grow on you. You pray that no more misfortunes land up on the poor things, for you would most definitely be heart broken. You rejoice in the small breaks God ( in this case the author) bestows upon them. Mistry has this annoying habit of making an indifferent character likeable, and then killing him off just when you really like him. There is something perverse about the way he kills them off, like flies dropping dead. Maybe I have read such sheltered literature,that such stark brutality left me quite speechless. The whole concept of "happy endings" is obliterated in his brand of writing.

In "A fine balance", more specifically, the story revolves around four central characters. Dina Dalal, the beautiful and headstrong landlady, Maneck- her teenage PG and an immensely likeable and thoughtful boy, Ishwar the sweet-tempered tailor and Omprakash- his hotheaded nephew. It is a tale which starts from the day these four characters meet and paces back and forth, tracing their entire lives and histories to the very day. Thus begins a year in their life, full of so many ups and mainly downs. It is a poignant tale, leaving you quite depressed at some of the things that happen. When Dina Dalal's heart finally begins to melt towards the tailors, I found myself praying that Mr Mistry keeps it that ways. But in the end, I felt that in an attempt to wind up ALL the loose ends, the author has decided a common fate for all, except three, and that is, a grisly death. And the one person who actually deserved it, Thakur Dhamsali, is the only one who keeps appearing in the poor tailors life, periodically, and (to put it rather colloquially), keeps screwing up their plans.

The last chapter has been written, probably when the author realised that he is, in fact quite capable of twisting the hearts of his readers. It has been spun in such a way that he was probably tired of them all, and has in his fatigue resigned them horrible fates including beggary and sudden unthinking death.

That is what I didn't quite like about the book. The rest of the book is written so marvellously, true to his usual style. But I don't know why his characters are always Parsi, and settled in southern Bombay. Maybe its because he prefers to stick to areas that must be familiar to him.
It is impossible to have read his book and not have come out feeling moved. Either depressed, helpless, or happy, because you have also lived the characters.
Another VERY surprising fact is that the book was Oprah's book club choice for 2002. Now i would not have expected that out of the perfectly made up, pastel dressed women who work for Oprah!

But again, like my usual favourites, I will not be recommending this book to anyone. I HATE them not understanding it, and then acting foolishly and telling me "HOW depressing! you have such a morbid taste in art!"

s..l..o..w...

Its slowly descending upon me, the slow realisation. The whole "a journey of a thousand steps must begin with one...."... the whole BLAH! thing... Its such a peculiar place I find myself in. I'm not your typical average college student, bunking class and getting a kick out of it, and then neither am I a typical working women. I despise the formal dress code, and I LONG for Saturdays to wear my Nike's to office. I don't think mature enough for an 18 yr old sometimes and sometimes, I think ( and I can sense it) beyond my not-so-many years. So I'm a weird bundle of contradictions sprinting about town. Wearing unfamiliar formals, and listening to KISS... or reading "Audit Checklist for Companies" and when that gets too much, reading the good ol' JAM!
The days are all speeding fast. I'm waiting for the weekend, and before I know it, its next Wednesday, and I don't know what gulped down the whole past week... for I can't figure out where it went.
And that, in the sweet irony it is, is the BEST thing.... that the days are speeding so bloody fast!

An excerpt from 'The Velveteen Rabbit'

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

INFP

I was just browsing through the net, and I stumbled across this "My Personality test"....I know its stupid to believe in them sometimes... those tests like "What dog breed are you?" or "What colour should you colour your head"... but this test is really good.
Okay, so it says I'm a Dreamer..(WHOA! NEWSSS!!!) and that I am introverted, intuitive, feeling and perceiving as oppposed to extraverted, sensing, thinking and jugding...
but what struck me most as true was this,

"An INFP's feelings form the foundations of the individual. They are sacred and binding, in the sense that their emergence requires no further justification. An INFP's feelings are often guarded, kept safe from attack and ridicule. Only a few, close confidants are permitted entrance into this domain."

I realise now that I should have posted the link, for anyone who might want to take the test too....
so here it is,
http://www.mypersonality.info/

cheers!

the ruby redness

Does being a part of a whole regard one whole less, incomplete ? That without the one key, I am a locked treasure chest. No one knows the ruby redness of the color of my heart, no one knows the laughter that courses my veins, no one can smile at me like that and get my eyes to twinkle that madly? No one can make me that happy as you, and even if they did, I'd fear to acknowledge it. Does being part of a couple lead you to having no identity without the other part? No one knows my dreams because I have led myself to believe that the one person who cares is you, without you, my dreams, hopes and aspirations are just figments of my own imagination. Without your knowledge, and without your constant witness to my life, I will lose a little bit of myself everyday? Without telling you everything, does it seem that nothing happened? That I sat at home the entire day without lifting a finger.
You are important in my life, I grant you, but why is that I let you be of utmost importance? That without your nod of approval or denial, nothing I do is useful?

Why do I think to myself, "Him! I love him! And until its in his arms that I put my head down to rest, no rest shall ever come to me? I will wander, lost, searching for the oasis of his love."
Why does love have to do anything with possession? If I cannot possess you, I cannot love you. What ideals are these? Whose ideals are these? Why can't I claim to love you even if you don't? Why must I have to love you only if we are together, officially? As if to tell the world, Yes! We are together.... you can quote us.

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!